Batjokes Week!
by Harlecat
Summary: My entries into the second BatmanxJoker week on Tumblr, rated T because I'm just a little paranoid.
1. Day One: All Tied Up

_Drip, drip, droop_, goes the water on the walls, little streams sliding down the windows, falling over the crackling sounds of an old record. _Drip, drip._ He can barely focus, _droop._ It's cold, too cold, and his jacket isn't enough. It looks a dark shade of gray, in the no-light. Everything. The world is black and gray and _white_.

Except for him, he's not gray or white, he doesn't even seem black, no no _no_, he's the absence of color in a way no other darkness _is. _The rain-shadows don't show on his suit or his skin, you can't see the world reflecting off of him. He's just _there-_

_-and then he isn't-_

-and then you're gone.

But this time he isn't moving, he won't allow that. _Not this time!_ Because this time is _different,_ he can _feel_ it, and besides, he _says_ so, that _makes _it so.

"Different."

There! See!

_"__Different."_ He hisses the word and starts toward the chair, and the absence resting in it, the absence he followed and fought and _had to tie down._

He wants him to wake up.

He pauses, his gloved fingers brush his lips and then the man's, an almost-kiss, a promise, a _later._

He doesn't want to make _promises,_ he wants to _do._

Should he wait? Should he go?

_I don't know._

_Hey!_

_That rhymed!  
_The rain is thickening, more shadows dancing around in the darkness, more blacks accenting the grays. He draws back and looks out the window.

What does he say?

_Do you want me?_

_I love you._

_I want you._

_You're me._

_Knock knock._

What will he say back?

_I do._

_I know?_

_I feel the same._

_You sicken me?_

_Who's there?  
_What's going to _happen? _What's going to _change?_

There's thunder.

The belt goes off, beeping, one of his little _friends._ They aren't worth his attention, his devotion, his _promises._

_"__Batman? Batman?"_

He touches the belt, and a shock hits him, hard. He bites his lip and falls over. He doesn't cry out, but he whimpers, and goes to stand.

Last time _he_ touches the belt. How'd he get it off, again?

Oh _no._

The absence is stirring, _now_, but he's still struggling to rise, on his knees and hands. He coughs.

The Bat wakes up.

_"__Jo-"_ the name trails off, into a silence, that lasts only one moment. The man, the _Joker_, thinks he sees something in his face, not pity, but something similar.

The quiet continues.

"Your belt," he finally coughs, _hack hack_. He wipes a little trickle of blood from his lip. It smells like copper, and it stains his glove. "_That_... now, _that_ was unexpected."

He doesn't speak, he barely even moves his mouth, he just _"hmmm"_s.

"You," he continues. "Have a quality belt, my friend. Glad you're putting it to good use."

"What do you want?"

"Oh."

_Do you want me?_

_I love you._

_I want you._

_You're me._

_Knock knock._

"Right." He pauses, and all the words leave his head, giving way to a fuzzy whiteness. "Um. Do you want to hear a joke?"  
"No."  
Of course not. "So, there's this guy-"  
"I _don't _want to hear it."

"Oh," he says, a little bit stung. His head is still empty. It's _always _like this around him. After a moment, he blurts, "I can't think straight around you."

The rain has never been so loud.

"I see," the man says.

"Yeah. _Yeah._ It's true. Everything else fades out, like I'm about to faint, and then there's _you_, and I can't focus, and it's like I haven't slept in a week but _you,_ I can focus on you without blacking out, and I'm dizzy and I have a headache but then I start to wake up, and _I don't know what it is about you_ but it's like there's nothing and everything in me, all at the same time, and it's all because of _you_."

The rain is falling faster now.

"So there's this guy."  
He doesn't stop him.

"I don't know what it is about him. Maybe his wife is pregnant and he doesn't have any money, maybe his girlfriend is sick, maybe his career is just falling apart, maybe he's dying, or maybe someone else is. Maybe it's his parents or his boyfriend, or maybe he's poor, or maybe he's just a drunkard, maybe he's just _screwed up in the head,_ but he decides he needs a drink, and walks into a bar."  
He takes a deep breath.

"And he's in there, drinking his drink, when he overhears these guys, saying god if only Jonny hadn't quit on us, if only we knew someone who could get us in to Ace Chemicals!"

The Batman's face darkened, shadows sliding over it. He knew where this was going.

"So the guy goes, wow, I worked at Ace! What an incredible stroke of luck! So he goes over to the other guys and says look pal, I don't know why you need to get into Ace but if you can pay me, I can get you through. And they go, perfect!

"So the next day, he's a part of their gang, and he's got the getup, and they're prepping him for their Grand Theft Ace, but then _something_ happens, and he wants out. But it's too late and he's too far in, he can't get _out_."

"Stop."

He ignores the man and turned away, throwing his arms into the air. "Too late! That's what you get for being bad_, _bad_, bad_. And that night he takes them into Ace."

_"__I tried to-"_

"But something goes wrong, the security's changed or the police were tipped off, and then they're not alone, and there's this thing, this _man_, and he's coming at him and he _can't think_ and then-"

"I didn't push you."

And even with the storm, there is silence.

"I know," he whispers. "I fell."

"Into the disposal tanks."

"No, that's not it." He doesn't say anything else.

Maybe he doesn't need to.

The water falls from the sky, and there is thunder, and a flash of light, _furious_, and _bright_, and when his eyes have adjusted, the man is gone.

_No!_

He falls, forward, and lands on his stomach. He rolls onto his back and faces Batman. He looks ready for battle, ready for the struggle of chaos and order, ready to face the Joker.

He doesn't move to fight him.

He cant see his eyes, he never could.

A cloud covers the moon.

Everything is black.

The weight of the man disappears, and the Joker can't hear him walking away, but he knows he is.

"Batman?" He props himself up. "Batman!"

He doesn't come back.

He screams over the lightning.

_"__Look at me!"_

He can't really tell, not with the darkness, but he thinks that maybe, _maybe_ he stops walking.

But he doesn't turn around.

_"__Please!"_

He stands, and falls forward. Batman catches him, because he _has_ to, he can't let him fall _again._

"You're drunk."

He laughs, loud and long.

"You're not making sense."

"Doesn't mean I'm _drunk._"

"I can smell it."

"A valid point." The Joker pushes him away and stands, folding his arms.

"There are shadows under your eyes."

"Well, fancy that." He yawns and stumbles back onto him. Batman tries to catch him, again, and they fall over, into the ropes. He's pinning him down.

Before he can react, he has the rope around his wrist, and rolls into his other arm, next to him.

"You're mine," he teases. He doesn't seem happy about it.

"Untie me."

"Nah."

Batman struggles, but he ties the other arm down, and then he sits on top of him. He kisses the symbol on his chest.

"Mine."

He kisses his forehead.

_"_Mine!"

He pauses, hovering, their faces close.

"Joker-"

He presses his lips to Batman's and lingers there for a second too long before he draws back, and hisses, _"Mine."_


	2. Day Two: Joker x Batarang

But he got away, of course, he threw a sharp shaped bat at him and he fought his way out of the ropes. He hit and cut and _killed_ the Joker without actually stopping his heart. So cruel, so mean, so harsh, _how could he do this,_ and what hurt the _most_ was that he didn't take him away, didn't take him somewhere where he could get _pills and anesthetics and rid of the pain_, he just left.

But he forgot to pick up his weapon. The Joker took great care of it, he cleaned it, he kept it sharp. He only cut himself with it a few times, and they weren't _all_ on purpose. He wanted to keep it and he wanted to get rid of it. He finally made the decision to, but didn't know how. What do you say? Should he apologize for tying him up? What did he do?

Harley got mad when he asked her.

Very mad.

She'd been mad at him before, and had told him things he didn't like, but he could always just pass that off as mad Harley, moody Harley, jealous Harley, Ivy-affecting-her Harley, time of month Harley but that night, she said things she normally wouldn't, things he couldn't pretend she didn't mean. She was furious. She yelled, she screamed, she even started to pull open the kitchen drawers and to _throw_ things at him , and she had a look in her eyes, like she might go for a knife or a pan, but in the end, all she did was look annoyed, throw her arms into the air like she was _surrendering_ to something, and turned around and head for the door, and in the exasperated voice she would use to tell him off, she only said

_"I'm done."_

And those words cut into him deeper than any knife would, and _he_ wanted to stab her, he wanted to strangle her, he wanted to _kill _her and to _kiss her to apologize he wanted to break down and fall all over the floor he would murder her he wanted to run after her_ but when the door slammed he was still standing there, the batarang still in his hand, and the house was _so quiet._

He had to say something, to break the silence.

"Harley? Kid?"

He half-expected her to come back through the door.

But she didn't.

She didn't come back in the next day, either.

It was _so quiet._

He wanted to talk to someone, about all the things she'd said, about how quiet everything was, how empty all the rooms were, how to give back a batarang.

What if there was only ever one person who listened because they really, truly cared? Who was always there for you, no matter how cruel you were, and who kept looking after you because they _really, truly cared?_ What if there was only ever one person to love you?

And what if one day they didn't?

What do you do when the only one who was there just _disappears,_ and takes away something you didn't know you had. Who do you go to then?

This is how you realize you are alone.

He needed to speak to someone, even if it was about something as stupid as _her_, something as dumb, as breakable, and as heart-stoppingly mind-numblingly _gone _as her. Not a therapist, no, someone who would at least try to care about him. To listen without thinking _this is what I'll prescribe, this is how I'll fix him._

That was the first real time you used the batarang with all of his effort and all of his heart, he carved the name _Harleen_ into his arm and promised himself he would see him before it started fading.

Two days later, he was walking out of the house thinking _I didn't do it deep enough._ It was too easy to sneak into the police station, too easy to sneak past all the officers, and he slunk up the stairs. _None of you are as good as him._ He made it to the roof unseen and it was so, _so _hard to flip that switch, even with no one watching him. He sat down on the roof of the station, his feet hanging out into the sky, kicking back and forth. He probably looked like a child.

He did.

Time passed by.

He didn't hear him come, but he head the click of the switch and saw the light flicker out, leaving only the smog and darkness.

He threw him the batarang. He heard him catch it.

"There's blood on it."

"Sorry."

He didn't need to turn around to know Batman was right behind him. He sighed and then, he started to laugh.

"I bet you knew."

"Knew what?"

He laughed harder. "You're a _detective._ Figure it out."

Batman was silent for a moment, and then he said. "Quinn."

"Yup." He wiped a tear from his eye, the laughter fading. "Always her." He started to chuckle again, mimicking her. "Ruining our fun, coming between me an' my puddin'!" He fell, his back flat agains the roof, his legs still dangling, wheezing. _"Ha!"_

The knight was silent for a moment, his cape rippling in the breeze, and then he asked what had happened.

The laughter stopped. "She left," he said, laying on his back, staring up into the eyes he couldn't see. "Me. For good."

"I see."

"Yeah." The Joker sighed, and looked away. He could barely see the tops of all the skyscrapers, when he was laying down up here. "Turns out she'd been planning it for awhile. With Ivy. For _months,_ actually."

"Alright."

"She didn't tell me," he said. "She didn't tell me she was with her, I wouldn't've minded, I didn't-"

"You kissed me while you were with her."

The Joker didn't reply, not because he had nothing to say- well, partially that- but because he was _shocked_. He said it in the same voice, the same voice that sounded like it wasn't particularly interested and didn't really care, but the words had so much meaning behind them, to him at least. And the fact that he hadn't waited for him to finish his sentence. That just _added_ to it.

He must've found that kiss important.

"Didn't you?"

He nodded, closing his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I did."

"But you cared about her."

"I _didn't_."

"Then why are you crying?"

"I'm _not!"_

"You are."

_"I was laughing!"_

"You _were._ You aren't any more."

_"I'm not crying!"_

"You _are._ You're crying, and it's pathetic, because if she mattered so much to you, you would've treated her better."

"It's none of your business!"

"It _became_ my business when you woke me up in the middle of the night. I had to stop _two_ robberies on my way here. I thought I was actually going to get to bed before four o' clock, but then the signal went up. I thought someone had _died,_ or that _something_ big was going on, but instead it turns out _you're_ upset, because your girlfriend was cheating on her abusive boyfriend, the one who didn't give a damn about her, the one who nearly killed her and who took away her future, and you're _sad_ because she finally worked up the nerve to leave. I'm so sorry your life isn't _perfect,_ I'm sorry robbing banks and murdering innocents hasn't blessed you with good karma, but _my life doesn't revolve around you._"

He didn't answer.

"Do you know who was _there_, when she had her chance at a life and it all went downhill? _I was._ I never expected anything from her, and she _never_ gave me anything, _but I still helped her,_ and where the _hell_ were you? Were you moping around because she took your hyenas with her? Were you jealous she had a shot at normal life?"

He bit his lip.

"I've tried to help you. I've tried to help you _all_, and to be as gentle with it as possible, but now it's time for you to wake _up_, Joker. You're not the only thing that matters. People don't go through their days thinking about you, and no body count will change that. You have to grow up sooner or later. Gotham isn't your playground, and the world isn't your toy store. Sometimes, people have bigger things to worry about than whether or not you're going to kill them, and sometimes they don't, but either way, they have other things to _care_ about."

The Joker clenched his fists. "I _am_ grown up. I _am _awake."

"You're _not_. This is the real world, not some fantasy inside your head. _Yes,_ there are people dressed like bats and _yes_ there are people who can fly, but that doesn't mean we're all going to dance around you and play games all day. Look around! How many people would be upset if you didn't wake up tomorrow?!"

"Harley'd be upset," he muttered.

"Harley's _gone_. She _left._ That's what happened to everyone who cared about you, they packed their bags and they _left._ Have you noticed how often your therapists change? Do you _care?_ Or do you think it's because you're just too good for them?"

"You're not funny."

"That's because I'm not _trying to be."_ His voice was so harsh, so cold, so empty of forgiveness. "I'm not trying to make you laugh, or to make you feel better, I'm trying to tell you the truth. I know it'll hurt, and I know it'll take some time, but it's time you focused on reality."

"You didn't leave."

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't leave," the Joker said, his eyes still closed, his nails digging into his palms. "You said everyone who cared about me..."

He trailed off.

"You want to know who I care about?" He asked, almost mocking. "I cared about my son. Jason. And _that_ ended _so_ well."

Maybe it was the wind, maybe it was on purpose, or maybe it was just _him_, but the Joker suddenly slid forward, over the edge of the roof. His eyes snapped open, and there were two arms beneath him, a head close to his own, breath hot on his face.

"Sorry," he said, the sidewalk frighteningly far. He realized he _was_ crying.

"Don't be sorry," he told him. "Sorry doesn't fix things. Be _better._"

He stood and he sat him down, and they stared at each other for a moment.

"I'm arresting you," Batman said, snapping two cuffs over his wrists. The Joker stared at them in disbelief. "You're going to Arkham. And this _better_ be the last time."

In a perfect British accent, he said "But I don't want to go among mad people."

"You can't help that. We're all mad here. We just know when to stop."

It was silent in the car, not because the Joker was unconscious and not because he was scheming and fuming, but because he was staring out the window.

"I'm not kidding. Last time."

"He came back. I didn't know he was gonna die."

"And I suppose that goes for everyone else."

"Well, I _didn't_."

"Joker. I'm _serious._ This is your _last chance._"

"I still have a full deck."

"You _don't._ This was your last card."

"I don't have a last card. You won't kill me."

The car stopped. Now it was Batman's turn to look at the window.

"What?"

"I'm going to tell you something."

"Okay."

"It's _important._"

"Okay."

He sighed, and stared down into his lap. "There were only two people I ever wanted to kill. The man who took my life away," he started the car back up, stepping on the gas. "And the Batman."

It was silent for a moment.

"I do want to kill you sometimes, though."

"Heh. Yeah. But you won't, cause you _love_ me."

"No, told you I'm not kidding, _last card._ If you screw up again, I'll let Jason kill you."

"You wouldn't!"

"I have to. You've ruined too many lives. _I'm sorry._"

"Don't be sorry. _Be-"_

A glare silenced him.

The Joker gave an over exaggerated sigh. _"Fine." _He paused. "I care about you, though, and you _have to care about me too-"_

"I don't. I don't have to do anything you say."

"If this was _really_ my last card, you wouldn't have kept me from falling."

"I caught you _because_ this was your last card," Batman said. "So play it wisely."

_"I don't want to play it."_

He pressed the batarang into his hands.

"Keep it. You got blood on it, anyway."


	3. Day Three: Intensive Therapy

"You were doing so well."

He was sitting on the roof again, his legs folded, staring down at the drop. "No I wasn't."

"You were. I saw your records. I talked to them. Dr. Fermont was actually proud."

"Yeah, well Dr. Fermont proved your everyone-leaves-me theory."

"Dr. Fermont died. Which reminds me, Croc's on the loose, so be careful next time you break out of an asylum."

"Oh." No one had told him about his doctor dying. The Joker glanced at a fire escape below him. "Right." He reached up to muss his hair. "Ah, well, guess it doesn't matter. The cards are all gone."

He reached to pull out a deck of cards and to scatter them onto the street below, only to remember he was in an orange jumpsuit with seven numbers instead of a name tag.

"Well," Batman said.

"Well?"

"You didn't kill anyone."

"Yeah," the Joker nodded. "Yeah, I just wanted to see you."

"And your doctor died."

"He did do that."

"So there are... circumstances."

"Really?"

"I suppose." He walked over to stand next to him.

There was quiet for a long, long minute, and then the Joker asked, "Do you know where Harley is?"

There was shuffling, and then Batman handed him something. He turned it over in his hands- a flash drive. "It's all on there."

He stared at it.

Then he threw it onto the sidewalk.

"I don't want a file. I want a vague place and some information that'll get me upset."

"Really?"

"Really."

"California."

"Oh?"

"On a honeymoon."

"Oh. Well," he said, his voice like venom. "That's good for her. Fantastic. Fantastic."

"Right," Batman went on, and that's what life did, didn't it, it went on, "Jason's still out of the state, so if you just go back to Arkham, he won't even notice."

"I don't like it there."

"Who would?"

"It's a bad place. I think it's haunted."

"Start being sane."

"I am! I'm only just noticing! And the food? Terrible!"

Batman raised an eyebrow.

The Joker kept going on in the car. "They're putting me on electroshock. I don't want to do it again! I only just got my hair back to the right length, and they're just going to put volts and watts in me! And then they're gonna hypnotize me and that'll suck, I'll have a headache for a month after that. And then I get pills. Eh, maybe I'll just hide them and OD. It'd save you and your Jason pal a lot of trouble." He sunk down in his seat and crossed his arms. "If you really wanted me to be better or whatever, you'd just, like, adopt me or whatever you do. I'd be your sidekick. And your maid. I'd even wear the dress! I don't want to go back!"

"You're going back. I'll even get you in, they won't even realize you were gone."  
"Really? So can I, like, come hang out with you every-"

"Don't."

"I don't like being sane," he mumbled, staring at his feet. "It feels weird. Like I was always like this, but I jest never noticed it, and I'm so focused but I'm still crazy or something and I don't know why."

"I'm sorry, but you have to go back."

He sighed and protested, but he went back, and after he was safely in his cell, Batman crept through the hallways and to the folders the doctors kept. He spent the better part of three hours looking through folders and paperwork, until he finally managed to to track down the Joker's therapy order and to remove the right papers. He checked again the next night, and the next.

The Joker never found out.


	4. Day Four: Marked or Scarred

When the signal went up the third time, it was early enough in the night for him to guess at who it was, and his guess was right. When he came, he didn't ask how he had been, how things were going, if he was adjusting well. He already knew.

He was sitting pressed up against the signal, his knees pulled up under his chin, staring at the roof beneath him as the Batman shut the light off and did something he'd never done before.

He sat down next to him, and couldn't help but take in the name on his arm this time, scabbing over, deeper than the last one. _Jeannie_.

The Joker was silent for a while, his breathing labored, and his shoulders shaky. Some time passed, and neither moved.

"Sometimes there's a woman."

The night was very still.

"Sometimes she's pregnant, sometimes she's _not_, sometimes there already is a kid. Sometimes she's my wife, my girlfriend, my sister. She always looks the same though, beautiful, not pretty like Harley and not gothic like you, but beautiful in this way that's _almost _plain. Everything changes but she's usually there, and it's weird because I can see her face perfectly. But even though everything's always shifting, she's _always_ dead by the end, whether it was a cop or a criminal or some guy from the Red Hood gang, or sickness, or _herself,_ or the pregnancy or _me_ but by the end, she's always _gone._"

He took a deep breath and the Batman saw that his cheeks were glistening, and wet.

"So I don't understand," he said, "How she could be _alive._"

"Maybe it's not her."

"It's _her._ It has to be."

"It could be someone who just looks like her. Maybe they're related, or they're doppelgängers."

"No, no." He shook his head. "It's _her_, it really _has_ to be. I've seen her face a thousand times. I'd recognize her anywhere."

There was a pause, the sounds of cars and laughter spiraling up from the streets below.

"Did you know," Batman said. "Every single person you've ever seen, in any of your dreams, looks like someone you've seen in real life? Your head just can't make up faces, not really, so it puts in people you saw on sidewalks and stores. People you don't even remember."

He didn't respond.

"And Freeze," the knight continued, after letting that sink in. "The woman he says is his wife? There's another world-"

"Right."

"In an alternate timeline, they never even met. She was the first woman to ever be frozen in a chamber, and he was so obsessed with her, he thought it was love."

"How do you know stuff like this?!"

"I have sources."

"Superman?"

"The Question, actually."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter. The point is, life is odd."

He snorted. "Tell me about it."

"The only thing you can do is just- don't worry about it."

"I'm still gonna worry about it."

"Just try not to."

He got up to leave, and the Joker turned to look up at him.

"That normal life you're always talking about," he said. "Is _so _overrated."


	5. Day Five: He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

_He loves me, he loves me not._

He'd started playing the game the second time, but wasn't _really_ playing it until after Jeannie. Because Batman _said_ he didn't care, but he _always _showed up every single time he put up the signal.

He told him he was overusing it. The Joker took that as a challenge.

"What? I can't just _give_ you money, no, I _won't_."..."You know what, just take this damn fifty. _Now._"

"I _know_ it's loud. It's a _city_ for hell's sake."

"I can't come over for dinner."

"I'm not going to just _buy _you things!"

"... Sorry."

"You should be _glad,_ they're not talking to you. They're insane."

"Do you _really_ need _another_ suit?"

He'd told him once, that he was playing the game, to which he said "Flowers are an untrustworthy source of information."

"Well, do you know a _good_ one?"

"Yes. Me. Give it up."

It wasn't until a _little_ more time passed that he started to get serious with it, and there were a _lot_ of flowers laying around his apartment. If Harley and her new _special friend_ could see him, well, he'd probably be killed on the spot.

He was thinking about Harley and Jeannie and all those _people _one night when he happened to see that the signal had gone up, and he thought nothing of it, until he saw the faint shape in the corner, a _J._ Then he left, in more hurry then ever before. He ran down the streets, easily cutting a path through the crowd, and it started to rain as he raced through the downtown area.

He reached the roof easily, and saw the duct tape that'd been stuck onto the light.

"Hey," he said, walking towards him, turning off the signal. He was crouched on the edge, like some fearsome gargoyle, looking out at the city. He sat down next to him, folding his legs. "I saw the news."

He didn't need to _ask_, he'd seen it on TV, he'd seen the sword go straight through the birdie's chest, and then come back out.

The Batman's breath was like static, his shoulders hunched over, and he didn't say anything.

"He was really young," he went on, staring at the clouds that filled the sky. Rain caught on his face. "I mean Jason. You know, the one I didn't _plan_ to kill, but just kind of did? He was older, but this one, he was just... he was really little."

Batman sighed, and nodded. They didn't say anything for a long time, but then he broke the raining silence. "His mother did it."

"What?!"

"She wanted him gone, and now he is."

"Woah. _Woah._" He pressed his palms to the roof below him, and stared at the cement. "That's... that's horrible. He was your son. Your real son. Wasn't he?"

"They're all my real sons."

"But... biologically? It was him?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

He didn't really know _what_ to do. He was no good at comfort, Harley was proof of that, but he reached over, and sat his hand down on top of his, and Batman gave him a weird look, but he kept it there.

"You're always telling me you didn't mean to kill Jason."

"Well, I didn't."

"But you beat him with a crowbar and locked him in with a bomb. How is that _not_ meaning to kill him?"

He didn't answer. "I don't-"

"It's because you thought I would save him."

"It wasn't your fault."

It was funny, the rain running down his cheeks would look like tears if he wasn't so still.

"My partner," he said. "My soldier. _My fault."_

"Even if it was," he said. "Which it wasn't-"

"It was. You just don't want to say it, because of recent events."

"You suck. Even if it was- which it wasn't. Don't give me that look, it _wasn't_, it was all on me, maybe him too, but probably just me- it is _not_ your fault this time. Believe me. And... he might come back, too. You never know."

It wasn't that there was quiet, it was more that they just didn't speak, but that was probably because they didn't need to.

"I've been thinking. I need your phone number or _something_, I can't just sneak into the police station every time I want to have a chat. And the fire escape by my apartment is a whole lot nicer than this. I've been thinking of planting some flowers, or ivy or something, or putting out a chair. Wanna help?"

"Why the hell would I do that?"

"Cause it's nice, asshat. You'd be a lame friend if you didn't."

"You have an strange definition of friend."

"_Probably_, I say, as I sit on a roof next to you, holding your hand and comforting you."

"Hmmph."

"Hey, do you wanna know why your voice is so deep?"

"No."

"You suffer from laryn_justice._"

"That's horrible."

He laughed. "I _know._ Here's a good one. Do you wanna know what I did the last time it rained?"

"Not really. I have to say yes, don't I?"

"Yep."

"Yes."

"This."

He leaned over, and he kissed him. He expected it to end quickly.

They held each other closer, and kissed each other harder, their breaths synchronized, their movements one. The Joker kissed Batman and Batman kissed the Joker, their lips parted, the grips tight. And when the kiss fell away, their fingers were still intertwined, hands palm to palm.

"Hey," the Joker said. "What's your name again?"

Batman smiled. "Nice try."

"Do you feel better?"

"I don't feel worse."

"Oh dear," the Joker said. "I'm going to have to kiss you again."

"I think you'll have to."

He kissed him again, and when it ended, he leaned his head on his shoulder and talked to him, about everything, and for the first time he talked _back,_ in ways he hadn't before. Everything suddenly felt more real then ever before. She kept talking to him and kissing him, until he fell asleep with his head on his shoulder. The next morning he woke up in his bed, and his first thought was, _he loves me._


End file.
